Thi s weekend we had the kind of glorious weather that makes Seattle heavan in the summer (and the memory of which keeps us going through the dark and rainy winter months.) Summer also means two things to me: our the Farm and pastis.

We picked up our first bag from the Root Connection, the coop farm we belong to and that I've mentioned several times before. (Actually, they started two weeks ago, but we missed the pickups for reasons lost to time. Sweet and tender carrots, lettuce that tastes like more than water, and other real veggies. Delish.

Now, it's Sunday evening and still pretty warm in the house -- really too warm for whisky unless I ice it down. I'm not really morally opposed to that, but it's unnecessary since I can enjoy my pastis again. Pastis is an anise flavored liqueur popular in the south of France that I developed a taste for two years ago. I love how it magically turns from clear to cloudy with the addition of water and the cold, refreshing taste. If only the air smelled like the ocean and lavender, I'd be back in France.

Life is good.